


Sacred and Dust

by AmberGrove



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Play: Sympathy for the Angel (A3!), is this what the kids call, michael dies but we knew this, tsumugi and tasuku we don't know her here, written as if raphael and michael are the real characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28809957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmberGrove/pseuds/AmberGrove
Summary: They say you don’t know what you have until it’s gone.Raphael never knew who “they” were, or why they kept repeating something that didn’t make sense, until the meaning was staring him right in the face.
Relationships: Raphael/Michael (A3), Takatoo Tasuku/Tsukioka Tsumugi
Comments: 5
Kudos: 12





	Sacred and Dust

Raphael has made this descent from the heavens on a multitude of occasions, and yet this is the first time he’s found himself delaying his leave. He loiters at the gates, hoping the bright light that caresses his form would turn to shackles around his wrists and prevent the inevitable.

How could he be expected to do this, after all? It was _Michael,_ not just another soul. The two had exchanged vices and votives since the dawn of the world. How was he to ferry him back to the heavens like he had countless souls past, like he was worth no more than the mere blink of an eye that was a mortal lifetime instead of the radiant divinity that he has spent his entire existence with?

There’s the familiar rush of air as another angel alights on the cloud next to him, red stole and silken feathers settling against white robes. “It is time, Raphael.” Metatron breaks the silence, and despite the lack of warmth in his voice there’s a sense of empathy there. It’s not often that they lose one of their own, after all.

“I know,” he acknowledges, though he remains standing still, gazing down to the earth as a passerby helps the woman Michael had become so enamoured with. The man looks around for Michael, puzzled when he cannot find him, and it is this that finally drives it home- Michael, _his_ Michael, will soon be gone forever, and it is an absence he will carry with him until the end of the world. Raphael has never had reason to mourn- for what does an angel know of grief? But if bereavement felt like anything, it would be this; a crushing weight in his chest, a prickling of heat behind his eyes, a keen ache in his heart at the thought of no longer seeing his friend’s face haloed by the rising sun.

And it’s a shame he has come to understand so late, or perhaps the words he had hurled at his friend may have landed as softer blows; for if the angel before him was but a man, and he was offered the chance to save him from a mortal demise, then he would have taken the opportunity without question.

Instead, he is asked to bring him home. One last time.

Raphael takes a deep breath to try and strengthen his nerves before pushing off from the clouds, his descent over too quickly for him to be comfortable with. The quicker he moves, the sooner he would have to say goodbye, and the thought of it pinches his face and furrows his brow as if something bitter had coated his tongue.

Michael’s head turns to him just as his feet touch the earth, and the smile that appears on his face causes a twisting feeling of pain to seize his heart in ice cold fingers. “Have you come for me, Raphael?” He questions, tone light as if asking if Raphael wanted to go cloud diving, and not about whether his friend has come to provide his deliverance.

“I have. I’ve come to ferry your soul.” Raphael affirms as he encircles Michael in his arms, head tucked firmly against his chest as the world fades around them. And though the wilting angel in his embrace curls closer against him Raphael can’t feel it, an empty space where the pressure of a body should be.

“You’re such a fool,” he scolds, and even though the words are hollow and lack all of his familiar bite Michael still laughs, the ghost of a breath dying in the cold. “Don’t call me that, Raphael. Not now.”

Even when distraught, Raphael is ethereal; a single crystalline tear traces the curve of his cheek, and his expression falters, falling to the ground amongst ashen feathers. “You can’t ask me to say goodbye.” He begs, and his voice breaks on the mere mention of it, on the thought of having to farewell his friend for good. It's a very human wish, to deny the inevitable, one that he has never felt the need for- but here, with Michael’s life in his hands, here is the first time in his divine existence that he has ever understood the mortal need to plead for more time.

Foolishly enough, he once thought he had forever.

Michael’s fingertips against his cheek draw him back from his wallowing, almost translucent skin shimmering with light. “I won’t, Raphael. But I’ve made my decision.”

“But was it the right one? You’re fading, Michael.”

“I don’t mind. I’m glad that I protected the woman I love.”

_Love._

He had never understood that word until now.

Raphael leans forward to rest his forehead against Michael’s, yet all he can feel is the moth like flutter of his breath, as fragile as spun glass. “I would have done anything for you,” He chokes out, and the words catch on all that remains unsaid between them bubbling in his throat that he can’t get out without breaking down, and instead he hopes beyond hope that Michael will still somehow understand from the measly few syllables he is able to utter.

The angel in his arms sighs and moves his hand to cup his cheek, his thumb tenderly brushes against Raphael’s cheekbone, and he knows that he has been forgiven. 

“And I did everything for her,” Michael murmurs, and he sounds so incredibly tired, every syllable weighted down with fatigue. He looks up to Raphael and tries for a smile, a quiet sniffle escaping him. “Would you smile for me, please? One last time?” He asks, voice small, and despite the tears staining his cheeks Raphael nods, the soft smile that curls up the corners of his lips one that he reserves for Michael and Michael alone. It is fond and warm and full of affection, and would die alongside him.

So as Raphael returns to the heavens, he takes in Michael’s face one last time before closing his eyes so that he wouldn’t have to witness whatever was left of his beloved’s form turn to dust.

When he approaches the pearlescent gates, all that’s left in his hands is an ashen white scarf.

**Author's Note:**

> If i had a nickel for each time I made myself sad writing this-
> 
> Title inspo came from Hieroglyphs by The Oh Hellos! It's the religious trauma isn't it


End file.
